


Chores

by rosepetal05



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: AU, F/M, Fights, Kind of angsty, Oh, One Shot, Panic Attacks, but it's all fixed in the end, but like not really, that's basically it, the apotheosis never happened idk what you're talking about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25801918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosepetal05/pseuds/rosepetal05
Summary: It's been a long day. Paul's tense. Fighting ensues.
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Chores

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have written another thing! If Google Docs didn't pick up mistakes then they're there.  
> I had no idea how to end this I'm so sorry about the end.  
> It's not that good but here you go! Enjoy!
> 
> Based off of this prompt from https://prompts.neocities.org/  
> Your prompt:  
> Person B: I love you  
> Person A: *shoving laundry basket into Person B's hands* stop saying I love you to get out of chores
> 
> CW: Panic Attack (it's not really but just in case)

Paul ran his fingers through his hair, grasping at the strands as if to try to pull them out. His work call had gone terribly, and not a single employee hadn’t annoyed him. Charlotte couldn’t figure out how to join the meeting, Bill kept talking about Alice’s musical, and Ted was… Ted. Mr Davidson kept asking them to do impossible things, and Paul had been the only one actually thinking about taking his work seriously. This resulted in him being given a stupid amount of work to have done at the end of the week, that definitely should have been split between at least 2 people. He was frustrated, annoyed, and stressed. Basically any negative emotion was wrapped up in a bundle inside of him, uncomfortably sitting at the bottom of his stomach. He sighed as he stood up from his desk, making his way to the door. He really needed a cup of coffee. 

Paul walked into the kitchen, beelining towards the cupboard so he could get a mug. He chose the green one that Emma had bought him for his last birthday. It was the exact colour of the Beanie’s apron, and she had laughed as he opened it, telling him that she couldn’t let him forget the shitty coffee that had brought them together. He had laughed along, but he secretly loved it, and used it as much as possible without her noticing. As he moved across to the coffee pot he stopped short, pulled out of his fond memory. A dirty plate was sitting beside the sink, holding up a half-eaten sandwich and a half-full mug of… something. Paul walked over and wrinkled his nose as he noticed the film that was forming on the surface of the liquid in the cup, which looked like tea. A dirty knife balanced on the edge of the sink, a habit that drove Paul crazy. He didn’t understand why people couldn’t just clean their dirty cutlery. Who cares if you might want another sandwich later? It can’t be that hard to get another knife out of the drawer, can it? He groaned in frustration as he walked out to the living room.

Emma was lying on the couch, her laptop on her lap as she typed furiously. She was lying at a 180 degree angle, her head in an extremely uncomfortable looking position in order to even clean the screen. Another mug sat on the coffee table, abandoned in her focus. Paul cleared his throat. She hummed back, not looking up from her computer screen.  
“Can you wash your dishes? They’re just sitting around the house,” he forced out through his clenched jaw. She just waved him off, nodding slightly.

“Yeah, I’ll do it later,”

Paul was generally very mild-mannered. Emma was the one who got fired up, who would react to any little statement that didn’t sit with her. Paul was the calm one, the rational one, who would stop her from exploding. But he couldn’t stand being brushed off as if his opinion didn’t matter. Emma’s nonchalant attitude added to the frustration and stress that had been accumulating all day was too much. The barrier that Paul had put up was stretched just too thin. 

“Will you?” he bit back. Emma finally looked up, eyebrows raised. Now he had her attention.

“What?” she asked, a daring edge to her voice. 

“It’s just… you say you will, but you never do. You just leave everything lying around! I shouldn’t be able to track your daily activities by just walking through the house and tracking your mess!” his voice was rising as he got riled up. 

“Well, if you have such a problem, why don’t you clean it up yourself?” Emma sat up, closing her laptop and shoving it to the side. 

“Because you should do it! It’s your mess! It’s your responsibility! You’re not a child that I have to clean up after, Em!” he gestured wildly.

“Whatever, it’s not a big deal!” she protested

“It’s not a big deal?” he asked incredulously,”It’s a big deal to me! We both live in this house Em! It’s like you don’t even care about me!”

“You think I don’t care about you?” Emma stood up suddenly, aggressively throwing her laptop aside on the couch. 

“Well it sure seems like you don’t when you just brush me away every time I tell you something!”

“That’s not fair,” Emma grabbed his arm tightly, pulling him around to face her, “What the hell do you want me to do? Every time you say something, do you want me to reply with ‘Yes, dear! Of course,dear! Whatever you say, dear!’? Is that what you want?” her voice went high and lofty, an imitation of a posh accent. Paul scoffed, shaking her hand off his arm. “Because I’m not fucking doing that, ok?”

“It’s just, you always brush me off like I’m not even there! “You can’t just shut me out just like you did to Jane! I’m not another problem that you can run away from in Guatemala!” he flung his hands toward the ground in frustration. A shattering sound snapped him out of daze . He looked down and gasped when he saw the green shards that covered the floor. He glanced down at his now empty hand in horror, and back up at Emma. He could see tears glimmering in her eyes, and he could feel them forming in his own. 

“I-”

Paul didn’t let Emma finish before he turned and fled into their room. He felt a tear drip down his cheek, and wiped it away hastily as he collapsed onto their bed. He was panting, gasping for air, and why couldn’t he breathe? It felt like someone had blocked off his lungs, making them a quarter of his usual size, massive heaving breaths coming up short. Fingers grasped at the bed sheets in a desperate attempt to anchor himself, to remember where he was. More tears began to stream down the side of his face, and he gave up trying to stop them, letting them pool down and stain the sheets. 

Paul stayed there like that for a long time. Though his body remained still, aside from his rapidly rising and falling chest, his mind was racing, replaying and replaying and replaying the argument. Their voices echoed in his ears, mixing together to become one torrential wave of noise. But one word was louder than the rest. 

Jane.

Jane.

Jane. 

There was a very clear line in their relationship, in any relationship really. Don’t bring up your partner’s dead sister in an argument. Paul’s heart hammered even thinking about what he said. He had definitely crossed that line. He had leaped over it. He had launched headfirst over that line, and he might as well have done a flip while he was at it. It was nasty, and Paul wasn’t sure if Emma would forgive him. What if she left him? Paul wouldn’t blame her. If Emma left, then he would have to back to his old, sad life, all by himself-

Paul sat up abruptly, unable to stay drowning in his thoughts anymore. He groaned as a flash of colour caught his eye. A few items of Emma’s clothing were scattered around the room, haphazardly thrown onto the floor. He grabbed the laundry basket from the corner of the room, before kneeling down to pick up the clothes. He reached out painfully slowly, needing to have a task to focus on for as long as possible so he could avoid venturing back into his mind. His fingers grasped the soft material, and he held it in his hands, staring. It was a light blue top with a simple flower design , one of Emma’s favourites. She had dragged him shopping one weekend, sitting him down as she brought a pile of clothes into the change room. When she had walked down in the tank top, he had immediately noticed how it hugged her figure perfectly. Perv, she had called him as she followed his eyes. When asked how she looked, he had responded that she looked good in everything, earning him a smile poorly masked with an eye-roll. She had still bought it though, and wore it often, to Paul’s delight. Now, a little voice in the back of his mind wondered if it was the last time he would see it. 

The creak of the door opening brought him out of his thoughts. Paul tensed, keeping his back turned as he heard the padding of her bare feet across the floor. She knelt down next to him. Paul kept his eyes on the shirt.  
“Hey,” Emma said.

“Hey,” Paul replied. Their speech was robotic. It felt so wrong. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking his hand, “I do care about you. And I don’t show it, but I should. I will.” Paul was yet to make eye-contact.  
“And I’m sorry for brushing you off. I-” she paused for a moment, taking a breath.  
“I’ve never really had anyone to lean on. I was always by myself. And I liked it. I wanted to show everyone how independent I could be. And to do that, I shut everyone out. But I don’t want it to end up like Jane. I want to be there, and I want you to know how much I care,” 

Paul could feel the tears stinging at his eyes again. He turned to look at Emma. Her eyes were red, and they were wide with fear. They were hesitantly flickering over his face, desperately trying to get a read on him. 

“I don’t want it to be like Jane either,” he said quietly, “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up, not in an argument,” Emma nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that was kind of shitty,” she laughed weakly.

“And I know you care, I do! I guess sometimes I just feel a little… pushed away,”

“Well, I know what will make you feel special,” she leant back, pointing at him, “I have decided-” she paused, tapping a little drum-roll on her lap “-that I’ll do my share of the housework,” 

“Really?” 

“Yup! You should feel extra special, buddy, because I’ve never done my share of the housework.”

Paul laughed, wiping his eyes.

‘I’m honoured.”

He leaned down, giving her a quick kiss. When they pulled away, Emma gently moved her head to rest on Paul’s shoulder. He was unable to enjoy it fully, something in the back of his mind still bugging him. 

“Sorry about the mug,” he said quickly, eyes shifting down towards the floor. 

“I knew you would be caught up about that fucking mug,” Emma groaned, “It’s not a big deal, man. I can buy you another one,”

Paul let out a sigh of relief, and Emma chuckled softly, nuzzling closer into him. 

“I love you,” she whispered. 

“Stop saying I love you to get out of chores,” he muttered, grabbing the basket and shoving it into her arms, all without opening his eyes. He heard her grumble as she picked herself up, taking the basket with her. 

“You know what? Maybe I don’t forgive you about that fucking mug!” she yelled as the door shut behind her. Paul rolled his eyes, lying down face up on the floor, letting out a sigh. He was exhausted, emotionally drained from the past day. Life with Emma was eventful, but he was willing to be a part of all of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how people smash out thousands of words so quickly like I have to have stuff in my mind for MONTHS and it takes me AGES to write it down help.  
> I'm also still trying to figure out how to format these so I hope it wasn't to weird!
> 
> I have a very inactive tumblr here (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rosepetal05) if you wanna see that
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and Comments are always appreciated!


End file.
